December 26, 2006. This time
of year we readers of newspapers and magazines are subjected to faith-based
fluff pieces about miracles and God's loving nature that must cheer the
hearts of the faithful as much as they annoy those of us who would like to
see a little more critical thinking in this as in every season. Two stories
appeared this week in my local paper, the Sacramento Bee, that
illustrate this annual lapse into wishful thinking. One begins innocently
enough:

Before presents, before turkey and yams
and banana pudding, Malik Little will start Christmas Day singing his praise
to God. From the keyboards at Calvary Christian Center on Del Paso
Boulevard, the 17-year-old will be playing holiday tunes for the
congregation of thousands.

I have no problem with stories about talented young
musicians who play music at church. But I do have a problem with people who
think God loves them more than other people. Their talent is a gift from
God, they say, which implies that the poor kid born with a finger that keeps
growing like a tumor, who couldn't play a musical instrument if he were
Mozart himself, was chosen by God for that particular bit of misery.

Here is the second paragraph of the article about Malik
Little by Laurel Rosenhall:

And as he celebrates God's giving nature
this year, Little feels extra close to it. God, he believes, gave him a
musical talent that's allowed him to help support his family. God, he says,
blessed him with an IQ that qualifies him for Mensa. And earlier this month,
God opened the door to an Ivy League education.*

If God did all that for Malik, then God burned down the
houses of at least eleven of his neighbors' families this week to celebrate
another part of His Nature. Maybe some day Mr. Little will stop using his
impressive intellect to delude himself into thinking that he was put here by
God to demonstrate his musical abilities. To be consistent in his thinking,
he is going to have to give God credit for all the miserable physical and
mental afflictions He imposes on so many of His children. The kid born with
two heads is probably not celebrating "God's giving nature," unless he's
been brainwashed into believing that surviving being born with two heads
proves God put him here for a purpose.

The other story was about a "miraculous" recovery from an
accident.*
Now, I enjoy a story about someone who is declared to be at death's door by
some medical divinity and then surprises everybody by regaining
consciousness. But why do writers and family members call it a "miracle"
instead of noting that M.D.s are often wrong? I understand why the doctors
are ready to call it a miracle. It prevents them from looking foolish. In
this case, the doctors recommended that life-support be removed from a young
man because their machines told them that there was "little sign of brain
activity." But his mother wouldn't give them permission to take her son off
a respirator. A month later, the young man is home, rehabilitating. By
calling it a miracle, the doctors don't have to admit that they were
wrong-dead wrong! They can rejoice with everyone else in the "miracle."

Bee writer Ed Fletcher could have written a story
about medical uncertainty or "mother's intuition." But he chose to write
about a "miracle." Was he trying to give us a "Christmas story"? The story
was published on December 26th and was titled "The best gift ever." I might
have called it: Brave mother saves son by defying doctors who wanted to
let him die.